Chapter 49: Chinese Compatriot Zhang Chen

TL: LittlePeach

I wasn't about to just sit around quietly waiting for his answer, either.

After I'd sniffled into the phone in silence for a while, I heard a tsk-tsk of tongue-clicking from the other end.

-As it happens, that fellow's been prowling all over Dandong lately, out panhandling.

"Panhandling?"

When I echoed him, bewildered, the broker continued his explanation in a kindly voice.

-He goes around hunting down the North Korean defectors hiding in Dandong and pitches them directly, telling them he'll be the one to get them to South Korea.

"Ah. So he's pounding the pavement himself?"

-That's right. In the end, this business of ours is one job biting the tail of the next, is it not? You make the pitch, you send them over to South Korea, and once there they find themselves respectable jobs and make some money, don't they? And once their bellies are full and their backs are warm, sooner or later they'll find themselves thinking of the family they left behind in the North.

"Naturally, of course."

-And then they'll be ready to burn through money to bring out the family still in the North, and who do you suppose they'll call? They go looking for the broker who saved them in the first place. It's all an investment in the future, you see.

"Wow...."

I was starting to get a rough picture of how this industry's ecosystem worked.

As I chimed in with appreciative noises, the broker dropped his voice low.

-The day you and I met, there were those laborers who rioted on the freight train, were there not?

"Yes. I remember."

-With nowhere to go and no money, they'll be drifting all over Dandong as we speak, and I hear Yu Jong-pil is out scouring the streets, eyes blazing, trying to scoop them up.

The moment I heard that, the puzzle pieces clicked into place in my head.

The freight-train laborers who had rioted and fled.

Forget having money to press into a broker's palm; these people didn't have so much as dust to shake out of their pockets.

So why on earth was Yu Jong-pil going out of his way, pounding the pavement in person, to gather them up?

To send them to South Korea and invest in the future, like the broker said?

'He's going to sell them to the Shanyuan Society.'

My hunch that Yu Jong-pil had been recruited by the Shanyuan Society and was rounding up defectors for them hardened into certainty, thanks to his story.

-He's probably making his rounds near Cathedral Street in Zhen'an District about now. As it happens, there's a restaurant around there he frequents. I'll send you the address, so go and apologize or whatever it is you mean to do. Though I can't promise that inscrutable fellow will accept your apology graciously.

"Thank you, sunbae. I won't forget this favor."

-Favor, nothing. We're all just people helping each other along.... In return, never, ever tell him it was me who told you this.

"Of course. As far as I'm concerned, I never heard a thing."

After the call ended.

Ding.

A text with an address arrived right away.

It was the address of a noodle shop in Zhen'an District, Dandong.

"That's close. Might as well head over right now."

The mission Crane No. 12 had given me was simply to check whether any of the three brokers I'd picked was suspicious.

After all, without a broker, the Shanyuan Society would have no immediate way of gathering defectors, either.

But I intended to take the operation in a different direction.

I was going to find the Shanyuan Society's hideout.

'Roughing up one broker won't cut it. To nip the problem in the bud, the hideout itself has to go.'

That said, the phone call just now had made one thing even clearer.

'These brokers are more tight-lipped than I expected.'

Even brokers who ground their teeth and snarled at one another refused to carelessly leak a colleague's information to outsiders.

And Yu Jong-pil, who'd survived for years in that closed little world, would obviously be even more tight-lipped.

The call just now had barely worked because I'd played the amiable junior and laid the flattery on thick, but would Yu Jong-pil really just cough up the location of the Shanyuan Society's hideout?

The same trick would never work on Yu Jong-pil.

'Got it.'

Of course, there was a way.

I would make him escort me to the Shanyuan Society's hideout himself.

"Excuse me."

"Mmph?"

Armed with the information from my kindly sunbae broker, I went to the noodle shop Yu Jong-pil supposedly frequented.

My eyes hidden behind cheap sunglasses, I dropped into the chair across from him, and Yu Jong-pil stopped mid-slurp, his neck shrinking into his shoulders.

He was visibly on guard at the sudden company.

"Wh-who are you?"

"A few days back, right around here, I watched you talk a North Korean defector around and lead him off. You are a defection broker, yes?"

"...."

Yu Jong-pil's eyes darted about rapidly.

He was clearly scrambling to size up who I was.

"No need for alarm. I am a Chinese compatriot, come from Yanbian."

"Yanbian...."

"The name is Zhang Chen."

But right now, I was speaking in perfectly natural Yanbian dialect.

The eyes, the only part of me he'd seen that day, were covered by sunglasses, and I'd completely changed the tone and cadence of my voice, so the odds of him recognizing me were vanishingly slim.

"I am planning to cross over to South Korea and earn some money, and I happened to hear they have something there called a resettlement subsidy program for North Korean defectors. You know of it?"

"...I know of it, sure. But why ask about that all of a sudden?"

No disrespect intended, but most North Koreans, poorly nourished as they are, tend to be small of frame.

Now, take one look at this body of mine, compacted by real combat.

Walk in wearing a body like this and announce myself as a North Korean defector, and even a passing dog would snicker before it believed me.

So how was I to fool Yu Jong-pil?

"I will pay you. I want you to pass me off as a North Korean defector and get me across to South Korea."

I grinned and drew an envelope from my jacket.

I'd heard that these days it wasn't uncommon for Korean-Chinese to cross into South Korea disguised as North Korean defectors and collect the resettlement subsidy.

Yu Jong-pil was already desperate to pad the headcount of defectors he could sell off to the Shanyuan Society.

And now here was a man pressing money into his hand and asking to be added to the batch?

"The money is right here. I did not know how much a defection to South Korea costs, so for now I withdrew ten thousand yuan."

"...Hmm."

From Yu Jong-pil's standpoint, there was no reason whatsoever to refuse.

Something like a sneer flickered around his mouth and vanished.

"Well, fine. But this is nowhere near enough. You'll have to bring more."

"How much more do you need?"

"Fifty thousand yuan, at the least."

The nerve, trying to haggle with me.

I snorted and slipped the money envelope back into my jacket.

"Is this a joke? For that price I would simply buy a plane ticket as a Chinese compatriot and fly to South Korea. Why would I go to all this trouble? I will find myself another broker, so finish your noodles."

Even I had to admit, right then, that my acting had reached master class.

It was Yu Jong-pil who panicked as I made to stand.

"Ah! Ah, ah! Sir, wait! My mistake! I'm s-sorry. I miscounted for a moment there. Ah, my head's been all over the place lately.... it came out wrong."

"...."

"It really was a slip just now, so I'll take only the ten thousand yuan you mentioned and settle everything for you, clean and simple."

Snorting inwardly, I sat back down with a grudging show of displeasure.

All the while, my conviction that this man was in cahoots with the Shanyuan Society grew ever sharper.

"Then what am I to do from here?"

"Come to the back street behind this restaurant at nine tonight. I'll have a car waiting; just be there on time and get in."

"If you take my money and try any funny business, I will not sit still for it."

"Oh, please. Never. Here, I'll even give you my personal number."

He hurriedly scribbled his phone number on a slip of paper.

As I took it and produced the money envelope once more, Yu Jong-pil snatched it up and stuffed it into his jacket, as if afraid I might change my mind again.

Then, all of a sudden, he stared at me with an odd look on his face.

"By the way.... have we met somewhere before, by any chance?"

"I have been loitering around you these past few days. We likely crossed paths once or twice."

"Is that so? Tss...."

I deflected coolly, but Yu Jong-pil unconsciously rubbed his solar plexus.

The Spasibo he'd taken a few days ago must have left quite the impression on his brain, because his gaze still lingered on me.

Well, ssiba.

"...Never mind. Must be my imagination. I'll see you this evening, sir."

"Let us do that."

*****

The appointed hour arrived, on the back street behind the restaurant in Zhen'an District.

A sedan with heavily tinted windows sat waiting, engine running.

"Zhang Chen?"

The window rolled down and an unfamiliar face popped out.

A rough, ugly mug. Not Yu Jong-pil.

"That would be me."

"We've been waiting. Get in."

"And who are you?"

"I work with Yu Jong-pil."

A glance inside the car showed two people already in the back seat, looking thoroughly cowed.

These had to be the North Korean defectors Yu Jong-pil had scraped together on this round of pavement-pounding.

"Might I take the front seat? I suffer terrible carsickness."

"Suit yourself."

The moment I sat down in the passenger seat, the car pulled out, in a great hurry about something.

Apparently this was everyone they'd be hauling to the hideout.

"Are we going far?"

"About thirty minutes.... What's with the shopping bag?"

"I thought my mouth might get bored on the way, so I brought a few things along."

I carefully set the shopping bag down under the seat, and... clink.

Clink-clatter.

At the strange noise from inside the bag, the driver's face turned uneasy.

"...That is food in there, yes?"

"Of course."

Anyway, the car set off.

[In 300 meters, turn right.]

While I quietly sized the man up, the navigation system mounted in the car was announcing the destination in his stead.

A glance at the screen showed the address printed in full right below.

A holiday lodge somewhere in a mountain valley north of Dandong.

'Dead to rights.'

The textbook defection route runs toward Southeast Asia.

But with the nav openly set on somewhere completely wrong, my near-100-percent conviction updated itself to 101 percent.

From here on, it was time to act, immediately.

Of course, there was something to take care of first.

"Urgh. My, my bladder is about to burst."

"...Wh-what?"

"Stop, stop the car a moment."

The innocent defectors in the back seat needed to be sent off this dangerous stage first.

As I jiggled my legs frantically to send the signal, the man at the wheel looked at me in disbelief.

"Oh for fu.... We left less than three minutes ago!"

"My apologies. I drank some beer earlier, what with the long journey ahead.... I will drain the tank and be right back."

"You've got to be...."

"Nnnggh. It's coming it's coming it's coming it's com...."

"Aaaargh! H-hurry up and deal with it, then get back here!"

The driver pulled over, seething.

I made as if to scramble out in a hurry.

Thwack!

"Gurk?"

I threw a punch straight from the passenger seat that whipped his jaw around, and the driver's head slumped without so much as a scream.

He could've pulled over faster.

"I nearly pissed myself."

I really did have to go.

*****

For 20 advance chapters, you can check out my Patreon here -->

If you enjoy this novel, please review and rate it at Novelupdates. Thanks! 😊